At noon, Vitus walked out of Saint George Palace and sat on the stone steps outside, staring into space. He knew only a little Italian and couldn't understand what anyone was saying. There was no point in staying inside.
Suddenly, a chorus of pleas and wails rose from the docks, drawing a flock of ravens. Vitus went to investigate and found the locals punishing the unruly soldiers who had gone on a looting spree.
Some of the soldiers had been tied to posts and were being whipped by onlookers. After only a few lashes, their backs were torn open, and blood streamed down without stopping.
Elsewhere, those who had committed more serious offenses were dragged to the gallows and hanged in rows. Afterward, their bodies were tossed into a sailboat. Once it was full, the boat was taken out of the bay, where the corpses were dumped into some secluded stretch of sea to feed the fish.
After a long while, Piero came over to Vitus, stretching. "Whew, my men are all dealt with. Now it's someone else's turn."
Noticing Vitus's confusion, the middle-aged man, who looked like an ordinary fisherman, smiled and explained, "Mercenaries have to follow rules too. They abandoned their brothers in the middle of a battle out of greed, so they have to be punished. Otherwise, the Mercenary Regiment's discipline will fall apart.
"No matter what other people think, my rules are simple. If they return to the ranks voluntarily before dawn and hand over their loot to the Mercenary Regiment, they can live after taking a whipping. If they keep hiding, it means they've left the Rotten Herring Mercenary Group for good. They're no longer my brothers, so the Genoese can deal with them."
Piero complained about his useless subordinates, then praised the governor's Swiss Guard. "There were only a hundred of them, yet they escorted the governor out of the encirclement. Even after most of their comrades fell, the dozen or so who remained kept fighting. Tsk, tsk, they've earned every florin of that fat salary."
Having witnessed the Swiss Guard's loyalty, Vitus was deeply shaken. As Piero explained it, Switzerland was mostly mountainous, and farming couldn't support a large population. Young men were forced to seek work elsewhere, forming small mercenary companies with men from their villages. When mercenaries from dozens of nearby villages gathered, they formed a Mercenary Regiment. Swiss mercenaries fought for foreign countries and sent their wages home to support their wives and children. Day after day, year after year, when their descendants grew up, they would follow the same path.
To some extent, it was a family trade passed down through generations. That was why Swiss mercenaries valued their reputation above all.
If a mercenary company betrayed its employer or fled in the middle of a battle, its reputation would be ruined. It would also bring shame on its descendants and the villagers from nearby settlements. Even if the employer let them off, their own people would never forgive them.
Vitus mused to himself, Loyalty is the most precious quality, and Swiss mercenaries happen to have it. If I ever get the chance, I'll hire a company of Swiss to serve as my guard, or hire Rus to form a Varangian Guard. Compared to them, the Eastern Roman Empire's imperial guards are utterly unreliable...
He thought about it for a long time, until a seagull came flapping over and snatched a fish from nearby. Vitus looked around. Piero, who had been beside him, had vanished without a trace.
The afternoon sun made him drowsy. He fetched an empty barrel and sat staring at the clear blue sea. Perhaps out of boredom, he asked the cook for a piece of white bread, tore it into little bits, and fed the seagulls and pigeons nearby.
After an unknown length of time, the sound of metal scraping against metal came from beside him.
Vitus turned his head and saw Master Conan sharpening an ornate sword he had captured. After a while, the latter wiped the blade with a rag, gave it a flourish, then sheathed it.
Vitus asked, "I heard you were the first to charge into the courtyard last night and escort the governor out through the back gate. Did you kill ten enemies in the courtyard alone?"
Conan drew the one-handed mace at his waist and studied it carefully in the sunlight. "As chief swordsman, my duty is to protect my employer, Governor Albizzi. I had no time to count such meaningless numbers. My only wish was to satisfy him and earn a decent wage.
"After this job, I don't plan to work anymore. I'll have one last duel with Zawisza, the Black Knight, then buy an estate in the countryside and retire for good..."
Vitus wanted to recruit an outstanding swordsman as his bodyguard, so he asked Conan for recommendations. Unfortunately, these sword masters looked down on ordinary employers. They preferred positions at court, where they could earn generous pay, meet the powerful of other countries, and make a name for themselves.
In the end, Vitus abandoned the impractical idea.
At three in the afternoon, Vitus returned to Saint George Palace. The meeting had dragged on for most of the day and was nearing its end. He went over to the clerk and looked at the parchment draft, which had been revised again and again.
He skimmed the long and complicated trade agreement, finally finding the part that concerned him:
"...To thank Florence for its generous assistance and compensate for the unexpected deaths of its guests, Genoa is willing to pay a sum worth three hundred thousand florins, to be paid in full within one month."
Half an hour later, the two sides reached an agreement. The Genoese representatives wore gloomy expressions as they signed their names one by one at the end.
From Genoa's perspective, they shouldn't have stirred up trouble in the first place. After this disaster, one-sixth of the city had been destroyed, and now they had to pay a huge sum to thank Florence for its "assistance." They had run around doing all that work and ended up with nothing.
After signing the agreement, they had no appetite for the banquet and each found an excuse to leave. Only Florence's leaders and a group of mercenary captains waiting to split the money remained in the room.
Albizzi didn't want to anger the mercenaries. On top of that, they had saved his life the previous night, so he promised to give most of the money to the combatants as a bonus. The condition was that they follow the rules during their rest period and refrain from looting Genoese citizens or violating the agreement between the two sides.
As the temporary commander the previous night, Vitus received the largest share. He was given thirty thousand florins, enough to buy a castle or six to eight large merchant ships.
After the money was divided, the ten mercenary captains left, satisfied. Before Vitus could go, Albizzi stopped him.
"Anthony Doukas, do you have some time? I'd like you to take a tour of this building with me."
Vitus agreed and followed the old man around the empty Saint George Palace. Suddenly, he spotted two gold coins in a secluded corner. He picked them up, blew the dust off, and slipped them into his pocket as naturally as could be.
"Your Highness, are you in a hurry for money?"
"Uh, a little. Wait, what did you call me?" Vitus feigned confusion. Albizzi coughed twice and revealed his identity outright.
"Vitus Palaiologos. Your elder brother, John Palaiologos, passed through Florence once, and I entertained him. He mentioned that he had a pampered younger brother who had sprained his ankle and was recuperating at some estate in the north. You look much alike. It wasn't just me; the others guessed too.
"At first, my cousin Giulio Di Maggio recommended you for the position of artillery commander. I thought he was just flattering you, hoping to keep you around as a son-in-law. I never expected you to do so well. You're more qualified for the position than anyone I've ever known. Hahaha, too bad I don't have a daughter. I can only leave you to my cousin."
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